


I Think You'll (Mis)Understand, When I'll Say That Something

by faith_girl222 (faithgirl)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-07
Updated: 2004-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4173561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithgirl/pseuds/faith_girl222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy had given him a stiff speech about what things a boy should never do in front of a girl he fancied, most of which Ron had already done by virtue of six years of platonic friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think You'll (Mis)Understand, When I'll Say That Something

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-OotP. Originally posted November 7, 2004.
> 
> Title from the Beatles.

During the Christmas holidays of sixth year things that would become everyday norms for Ron suddenly happened within the space of a few days, like snowballs raining down.

Hermione set up the Young Order, developed a Student Council where the prefects along with the head boy and girl could easily communicate, and began a prep course for NEWTs and OWLs. Harry and she had been sitting at the brink of platonic friendship since September, but it was all blown out of the water between Christmas and New Years when Harry came out by kissing Draco in front of the whole school (more kids had stayed for those holidays than in the last 15), moments after Draco had declared that with his father dead and his mother ambivalent to the war there was no reason he should pretend to be allied with Voldemort.

Dumbledore made the DA public on January first, so no student should feel they were breaking rules by participating. And, most important to Ron himself, he found himself acting like an idiot near Hermione. Friends for six years, and suddenly he couldn't sit still near her. Or keep himself spilling eggnog all over the common room. Or tripping down stairs, or walking into walls.

It took until spring and catching Justin Finch-Fletchly asking her out for Ron to put two and two together. He spent all summer locked in his room writing terrible poetry that he burned the moment the ink dried, because it was just that awful. As summer drew to a close, Hermione and Harry came to stay at the Burrow, and even Harry could no longer ignore the blatant signs.

'You really need to say something. She's going to think you've gone off your nut,' were the first words Harry said, as he walked past Ron into the kitchen.

Fortunately Hermione was so busy planning for next year that she was completely oblivious to any abnormal behavior.

On the 23rd their letters came. Hermione was Head Girl, and Ron was not Head Boy. On the one hand he was relieved, because this meant less opportunity for her to see him being thick, but it also gave him less time to be around her, where he hoped to tell her how he felt (by letter just seemed too rude, and if his mother ever found out he'd told the girl he wanted to marry he loved her by owl for the first time, she would kill him).

Percy, who had come back to his parents' side during the summer of 1996 (after Molly dragged him home by his ear, screaming the whole way about ingratitude and family honor and stupidity and pig headedness), drove them to the King's Cross. Waiting at the platform as Hermione spoke with the parents of some first year's in her new capacity as Head Girl, Percy was shrewd enough to guess what the glazed look that had settled over Ron's face as he watched her meant.

Percy gave him a stiff speech about what things a boy should never do in front of a girl he fancied, most of which Ron had already done by virtue of six years of platonic friendship. Percy gave him a manly pat on the back, shook Harry's hand, and wandered back through the barrier.

Once on the train, Ron hid himself in a corner of the compartment, hoping Hermione would be too busy to notice. Luck was for once in his favor, and she spent the entire train ride in the prefect's compartment with Neville, who had set his grandmother's wig on fire when his letter told him he was the new Head Boy.

'What should I do? Should I just kiss her? Will she think I'm being too friendly? Why wasn't she my rival, or at least someone who'd know what I meant when I kissed her? Vague acquaintances would work out okay, I reckon. But no, we've been friends since we were 11. How were you going to tell her, before you found out you were gay?' Ron jabbered questions of this type at Harry until 2.00 pm when the sweets trolley came by and Harry bolted from his seat to buy some.

At school Ron barely had time to wallow in his angst. By the end of the first day he had five hours of homework, three projects, and a Quidditch meeting. Deciding big huge piles of homework were something he'd be able to entice Hermione into helping him with, he set off for the pitch where the team was meeting him.

Six faces stared blankly at him as he paced back and forth in the locker rooms. It took Ron several minutes to realize why. It was 8 pm on the first day of classes. Practice didn't start for three weeks. Everyone looked half dead, and probably had their own piles of homework waiting to be done.

He dismissed them, and trudged back to the common room with Harry.

* * *

Sunday 21 September, 1997

The Gryffindor Quidditch team stood on the pitch as Ron went over the goal of their first practice of the season. Five minutes in their attention shifted to the entrance, behind Ron. Hermione walked on to the pitch carrying a basket, looking faintly sheepish.

'Hi! It's kind of hot for September, and I thought maybe some drinks and things might be...'

Ron opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Harry quickly stepped forward to take the basket. 'That's very considerate of you, Hermione. We haven't actually started playing yet, but when we have, we'll be sure to have some.'

They shared a Look, and Ron had a panicked clutching in his chest. Had Harry told Hermione for him? Did Hermione reciprocate? Did Hermione not know, but still reciprocate? Why was everyone staring at him…?

'Right, thank you. It's appreciated,' Ron smiled tightly at her, and then turned back to his players. 'As I was saying, we'll need to work on strategy, and tight play. Good moves are great, but they aren't useful if you can't coordinate with the rest of the team. Now, Kirke, Sloper, no one expects twin-like coordination, but a certain amount of knowledge of how the other is going to react is important when dealing with something as dangerous as a bludger…'

* * *

Saturday 25 October, 1997

Ron wandered away from the group as they made their way toward the Three Broomsticks. Fred and George had just merged Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with Zonko's, and were overseeing the set up of the new joint shop.

The late October air was cool, and Ron walked quickly toward the building. ConstructoWizards were outside putting up the new sign. The next room of the building had been bought, and Ron could see other people inside building display cases and shelves. The place was starting to look good.

There was a group of men in dress robes by the front doors holding up blueprints. Ron headed for them.

'Excuse me.'

'Hello there,' said one of them, who had spiked purple hair and a cockney accent. 'You must be one of Gred and Feorge's brothers.'

'Er, yes. Are they in?'

'Upstairs in the office. Good to meet you.' The man shook his hand. 'I'm Steven Minton, head of marketing. Not that the two of them really need it, but good marketing goes a long way to bringing in a new crowd that usually isn't up for trouble making.' He pulled a stack of flyers out of his pocket. 'Hand these out around school, would you? It's early, but that's the thing about advertising, do it consistently from early until right before, and you get a lot of people.'

'Uh, sure.' Ron took the flyers and went into the shop. Things were as they'd been last time he was in Zonko's, only there was a huge banner above the front counter, declaring 'Zonko/Weasleys Presents Mayhem 1997'.

Up a flight of rickety steps, which yelled at Ron if he trod on them the wrong way, and he was at the administrative level. All the doors to the offices had been removed, and inside were wizards and witches tinkering with new jokes and spells and sweets. At the end of the hall he could hear his brothers' voices.

'Oh, god, my head. Why is everything so bright, Feorge? Is the world ending? Did we not meet our profit margin for the quarter?'

'You're hung over you wanker. Now, get off my desk, yours is over there.'

'But mine has a window.'

Ron watched as Fred steered George over to his own desk, and put him into the chair. The chair squawked indignantly, and George flopped forward onto the desktop.

'Er, is now a bad time?'

Fred turned, and George looked up, pieces of parchment stuck to his face.

'We always have time for our baby brother. How are things?' Fred asked.

'Did you get Head Boy?' George interjected nervously.

'No, Neville somehow got it.'

'Thank God, we might have had to disown you.'

'Here for any particular reason, Ronnikins?'

'Um, yeah, actually. I need help.'

'You do something bad?'

'Did you get expelled?'

'Blow something up?'

They sounded far too eager for Ron's comfort, but that was just them.

'No, um, I need advice.'

'About blowing things up?'

'No, about, um, girls.'

'We can help him there, can't we Gred?'

'Who is it? Is it Hermione?'

'You know that?'

'Yeah.'

'It is sort of obvious.'

'With all the bickering.'

'Do you think she knows?'

'No.'

'No, she's way too, um, well, I don't want to say repressed.'

'Repressed is completely the world. Smart girl she is, but…'

'How do I tell her?'

'Woo her with enchanted plush toys that fly. We just finished a batch.'

'Give her a singing cake.'

'No, better, yet, do a song and dance routine!'

'Oooh, or duel with someone over her. Birds always like that.'

'Really?'

'Yes, but make sure you're defending her honour. Otherwise it makes you look rash and violent.'

'He is rash and violent. Point is for her not to know that.'

'Six years of friendship might have made that difficult.'

And they went on, as though they'd completely forgotten him. Ron sat for a few moments, trying to decide if they would remember him. But they just kept going back and forth, and then they'd segued from his dismal love life to a series of romantic jokes they could design for Valentines, so Ron backed quietly out of the office.

He went off to join his friends at the pub, thinking about their suggestions.

* * *

Friday 7 November, 1997

After the first Hogsmeade trip and Fred and George's advice, Ron had asked Harry what love songs he knew. After an awkward pause, Harry came up with a few Beatles songs he could remember hearing. Harry had gone to a lot of trouble (Ron suspected he'd asked Dumbledore) to get the lyrics, and then spent the last week and a bit frantically teaching Ron the words and tune. After Ron had suggested he regale her after her first NEWTs prep class, Harry had almost dropped the bottle of ink he was holding.

'Are you crazy?' he had said. 'Hermione will kill you if you aren't in that class. No doubt if you fail your NEWTs she'll hold herself personally responsible.'

So that was why Ron was sitting at the back of the classroom Hermione was using for this, with a stack of parchment and a quill with a nib he'd broken in his rush to bring the lyrics. Hermione smiled at him from the front of the room as she set her things up, raising her eyebrows to show her surprise.

Ron didn't contribute at all the whole class, instead fervently went over the lyrics. At 9.00 pm, when the class ended, Ron snuck out first, positioning himself so he would be able to tell when Hermione was coming out of the room.

Everyone else walked by, Harry trailing at the back with Draco. Harry came over and wished him luck, and nudged Draco in the ribs until he did the same. They went off, and Ron cleared his throat and went over the lyrics one last time. As Hermione's footsteps echoed in the empty room, he began screeching "I Want to Hold Your Hand" at the top of his lungs.

Hermione jerked back as the blast of sound reached her, and she stared wide-eyed as Ron bellowed it out. The sound of his singing reverberated off the walls, and nearby paintings glared. As the song wrapped up, Hermione just stood there, staring at him.

He had omitted the idea of doing a dance, but the singing was forceful enough. It was a love song, after all. Why was she frowning like that? 'I want to hold your hand...' he finished, and looked expectantly at her.

'Um, wow. Are we doing a musical concert this year? I thought I would have heard about something like that…' And she just kept frowning at him 'Why are you singing it now? Is this is an audition? I hardly think, as Head Girl, I have the power to approve or veto a school event without Dumbledore. Do you plan to be accompanied musically?'

Well, Gred and Feorge would certainly be hearing about how terrible their advice is.

* * *

19 December, 1997 - 7 January, 1998

Ron spent the holidays trying to act as normal and possible after the humiliating singing incident that would later become referred to as 'Ronald Weasley's Experiment with Crack'. This meant bickering with Hermione and playing chess with Harry, and throwing snowballs at Draco, because dating Harry wasn't a reason to like him, even is he wasn't evil anymore.

Bickering with Hermione was difficult at first, like trying to shove himself into an old pattern. The more he thought about her reaction to what, in Ron's mind, had been a blatant declaration of love, the easier it became. He could be annoyed with her now, because she was foiling his attempts at bearing his soul to her. Plus, bickering made not acting like an idiot easier.

On Christmas Eve they – Ron, Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna – went up to the Astronomy Tower together for 'Starry Stories'. Padma, Parvati and Lavender had put together a story night based on legends about the stars, along with Professor Sinistra. It was very romantic and uncomfortable, and Ron spent much of the evening hiding behind Ginny. She kept hitting him with her bag of Twisty Wand Gummies and complaining how he was blocking her view.

Christmas itself was better, with food and sleighing and, most importantly, presents. Fred and George had sent several large ones because a) they could and b) to make up for the terrible singing incident. Inside the huge package of new products they were selling, there was note: 'Being rich is also a great way to woo the ladies. Greta and Jennifer say hi!'

Ron was able to avoid Hermione all New Year's eve despite their mutual involvement in the activities. Hermione and Neville had to plan the fireshow being put on by outside talent, and Ron had to work with Draco to make the special Quidditch game happen. All in all, it was an exhausting, but embarrassment free evening that ended with Ginny giving him a bottle of schnapps and disappearing with what appeared to be Zacharias Smith and Luna Lovegood.

New Year's Day was wholly depressing, in its hysterical ridiculousness. At 3 AM Harry dragged Ron, completely drunk on schnapps, to Madame Tralawney's room, where she was doing free fortune readings for the New Year. Ron spent the rest of the day at turns unconscious and hung over.

The holidays ended in a blur of chess and depression and being hit with his Quidditch broom if he whined too much about Hermione's obliviousness to one person. Ron was also quite sure he ended up writing some bad poetry, but he couldn't find it afterwards.

* * *

Sunday 31 January, 1998

Hermione didn't go on the fourth Hogsmeade trip; instead she stayed back with Neville going over events for February. Harry had been going to go with Ron, but Ron found him talking mushy to Draco in the Great Hall. Ron went off on his own, deciding he would take the opportunity to spend some of the money he'd made over the summer working for Fred and George. 

Hogsmeade was full of nice shops, and there had to be someone who could tell him what things were so utterly romantic, the message it would send would be like dropping an anvil. He started at the jewelry boutiques. Girls always liked jewelry. But after a few minutes it became clear he would have to fall back on books. Hermione was much more of a book person, and none of the jewelry, lovely as it was, was her style at all.

Flourish and Blotts had wanted to open a branch in Hogsmeade, but it had never happened. Obscurus had managed to, and Ron went in, hoping they'd have some sort of poetry section. Poetry had a lot in common with songs, but it didn't need to be sung, and was more likely to appeal to Hermione's intellectual side. 

Ron ended up finding a book of 15th century poetry by a wizard in France. It was a translation, and it seemed very pretty and cultured, and best of all, obvious. The normalness of the holidays hadn't worn off, and Ron wasn't sure he was ready for it to. When he got back to his dormitory, he put it away. Valentines seemed an appropriate time, if not the day itself (Hermione was chaperoning the school wide dance that night).

* * *

Saturday 27 February, 1998

Celestina Warbeck had agreed to do a concert at Hogwarts. Admission was by donation, which went to St. Mungo's MediWizards Without Limitations program that worked in areas that were being especially affected by Voldemort's second Reign of Terror.

Ron hadn't actually seen Hermione in two days. Not at any meal, or in the Tower. He would be worried, but this concert was a big deal. It wasn't a tiny, if popular, local band playing something as big as the TriWizard Tournament, it was an "international sensation of gripping power" (Henson Phelps, Magi Music Weekly), and Hermione, along with the Staff and Student Council, was orchestrating it.

Two hours before the concert's start Ron bumped into Ginny, who was stumbling out of an empty classroom with Anthony Goldstein.

'Bye Anthony!' Anthony looked a bit dazed, and ambled away. 'Hi, Ron.' A tint of red crept into her cheeks, but she met his gaze evenly. 'Something bothering you?'

'You have a minute to give your big brother some advice?'

'Okay.' She rearranged her uniform, and leaned back against the wall. 'I'll play Agony Aunt.'

'You're a girl, obviously. And therefore, would probably know about girls.'

'Yes.'

'How do think I could to tell Hermione I love her?'

'Telling her? Oh no, wait, you're a boy. It can never be that simple.'

Ron looked hopefully at her.

'Impress her. Prove you're better than anyone else for her, and maybe she'll come to you. But don't do something stupid. A lot of girls may have a fixer-upper boy complex, but stupidity is usually beyond what they're willing to deal with.'

Ron went off to the Great Hall, where the concert was being held, and waited until the opportune moment, during the intermission, to approach Celestina. After waving off her offer of an autograph, Ron asked her if she would dedicate one of her love songs to Hermione. Celestina agreed, and went off to talk to her band.

But the whole thing was a disaster. Apparently, every one of her "love" songs were terrible saccharine sweet monstrosities that would make the most romantic person's stomach turn. Not exactly the sort of song one wants dedicated to oneself. And her horrid mangling of Hermione's name ('Her-mee-ion-ee Grang-er') didn't help matters.

Ron spent Sunday hiding in his bed. Harry brought chocolate and Draco brought snark, and Neville offered to talk Ron up.  
* * *

Saturday 14 March, 1998

The Seventh Years had always done a Pub Crawl. Hermione deeply disapproved of the entire idea, but with Voldemort being a constant dark cloud over everyone, Hermione was all for anything that constituted "raising morale". And it wasn't her place to break tradition, especially one that hadn't ended in fatality (not of course that the wizarding world wasn't full of ones that did).

It was a horrible, horrible night for Ron. He had agreed that he would stay sober so there was someone available to help out those who couldn't operate their wands to sober themselves up. Everyone else was having fun around him in the Three Broomsticks, and Ron sat in a corner with his Transfiguration book hoping studying would impress Hermione.

But Hermione was getting drunk with everyone else. It was deeply unsettling, watching her giggling tipsily in her booth with Harry, Draco, Hannah Abbott, and Zacharias Smith. Ron glared untrustingly at Zacharias over his book. He'd seen him with too many girls that year. The idea that he'd been with Ron's little sister in any capacity was enough to annoy him, but add in the way he leaned toward Hermione when she spoke and homicidal rage was slowly overcoming him.

The evening dragged on, and the words in the book began to blur together. When Madame Rosemerta offered him some butterbeer, she pointed out he was holding his book upside down. Two hours later, as Ron rounded everyone up, he went poking into the back room searching for stragglers and found Zacharias. With his tongue down Hermione's throat.

Ron was too tired to fly into a rage, but his insides seethed as he told them everyone was heading back and they had to be back in their dorms by 4.00 am.

Zacharias left to go find his travel cloak, and Hermione stood in the darkness, lipstick smeared, skin glowing, hair mussed. Ron could barely look at her without wanting to do things he couldn't do until he fucking told her. Ron hesitated and then stepped closer. Things were awkward and crappy, and she might not remember anything in the morning, but it was certainly an opportunity to say something. Maybe that poetry would go down well while she was drunk?

The fates, for whatever reason, were not smiling on him that night. Hermione glared at him.

'Why are you here? It's only –' she nearly fell over moving to look at her watch – '3.00 am. Ages before we need to be back. You don't like him, do you?'

'No, I don't.'

'It isn't your business though. Same as we can't say anything about Draco, even if he is a complete bastard. Friends doesn't mean telling each other who we can date.' She moved closer, into his personal space. Ron could smell her perfume. 'Whom we can do things with.'

'Just looking out for you. Friends are meant to do that, last I checked.'

But Hermione didn't respond, because she had begun giggling hysterically because he'd made a "grumpy face". Ron officially didn't like drunk people anymore.

Ron sulked the whole carriage trip back, glaring at his companions who were all happy drunks, and enjoying themselves too much for his foul mood.

* * *

Wednesday 1 April, 1998

Ron had handed out the flyers as Steven Minton had asked him to. They had been for an April Fool's day practical joke thing, which was being used a promotional tool. Ron wasn't going. He sat alone in his bed waiting for Harry to get back from the Slytherin dorms.

Ron pulled out the poetry book, trying to memorize some. It was a last ditch attempt. Ron wasn't going to concede defeat, but the whole proactive thing hadn't panned out. He need to get his stuff together, and be prepared if a real, decent opportunity arose.

As he settled into the reading, there was a knock. Clearly, not Harry, because he wouldn't knock.

'Come in!'

Fred and George burst into the room. They looked at him.

'Not going so well then?'

'Still haven't told her?'

Ron shook his head.

'Are you doing it wrong, or she really that preoccupied?'

Ron shrugged. Non-committal, non-verbal Ron wasn't someone you could communicate with, so they went back to their MC'ing duties.

* * *

Thursday 30 April, 1998

In the new tradition of raising morale, a Beltane celebration had been planned. Magical bonfires were being lit near the lake, and the maypole for next day was being set up. Ron was looking forward to it. It seemed like a non-traditional school dance with some ritual and candy thrown in (Honeydukes was having a booth at the event).

When evening came, and the school, in warm clothes because April was still chilly, poured onto the grounds, Ron looked for Hermione. He'd been attempting the friendship bickering that had worked at Christmas, but it was hard. Everyone was so busy, between event planning, and studying, and classes, and the Young Order (the running of which Hermione had had to hand off to Susan Bones because she was just too busy), and Ron was left with a lot of time he wasn't with her, and ended up thinking about her.

This seemed like a time when something might happen. Ron wanted to just let it, but he wasn't above arranging being near her for that something to occur more easily. He found her talking with Terry Boot about the advantages of having the bonfires in close proximity to the lake.

Ron spent the evening hanging about Hermione, offering to do things for her when things got hectic and first years were trying to push each other into the lake (this ended in Hermione yelling about sugar-hyped children and how they were never letting a sweets shop sponsor an event again). The evening dwindled into darkness, and nothing happened. No moment, or spark. Music swelled as the younger kids were herded off to bed by their prefects. Hermione stuck around overseeing her own classmates, who had smuggled fire whiskey up from the village.

Padma Patil had dragged him away to dance, and Ron had lost sight of Hermione in the clamor and crush of students.

Ron found her sitting by the edge of Hagrid's property watching the bonfires. Ron sat down beside her. Above, the stars glittered in the dark sky. Plumes of smoke obscured it in places, but they twinkled merrily away.

Hermione sighed heavily, and settled back in her woolen cloak. Ron put his feelings out of his mind, and tried, if only for a moment, to make things as they once were. Comfortable, familiar, nothing new or scary. Just friends, like it had been in the beginning.

They sat there, in silence, until McGonagal came down at 3.00 am to remind them they still had classes the next day.

Ultimately, it didn't magically fix things. In fact, it made them worse. Ron wasn't just in love without a feasible plan to tell her so, now he was actively pining. The walk back to the dorms was spent remembering the smell of her hair, and the feel of her presence beside, the heat that radiated off her, the way her hair glowed at the edges with the bonfires burning behind.

That night he dreamed about their future. The war was won, and life resumed normality. He proposed to Hermione, and her face lit up as she said yes. They bought a flat in London, and on their wedding day Ron stood tall and decorated from the war, worthy. Something special among so many brothers, the one man she'd chosen. She came up the aisle, and when she reached him, Hermione let him hold her hand as they spoke their vows. Nine months later, Ron was a father. Things were perfect, and he was really and truly happy.

He woke in the morning wondering if she even wanted kids, and how it had never come up.

* * *

Monday 4 May, 1998

Ron offered to supervise the first year's dueling competition with Hermione on Monday night. The children had been taught how to duel, and how to duel safely when the object wasn't to kill your opponent. They were decent, better than the three of them had been at the same age.

The new DADA professor, Gingham, was playing referee, and they sat behind her on desks.

'Remember when Harry and I were going to fight Malfoy?'

'And I tagged along because you two apparently had rocks for brains?'

'Yeah. How do you think we would have done?'

'We'd have had to bury you. Malfoy actually knew what he was doing.'

'I thought you didn't like him.'

'I don't. But he did.'

'All illegal moves, I'd wager.'

'The better to kill you with.'

'And this lot? We don't think they'll end up luring each other out in the middle of the night to kill each other with illegal curses?'

'We don't teach them illegal curses, Ron.'

'Kids can be cruel.'

'Kids are lovely.'

Ron looked at her, a smile creeping onto his face. 'You really think so?'

'Mmmhhmm.'

'And how many do you want?'

Hermione's head jerked, and her eyes met his. 'That's sort of a personal question, isn't it?'

'We are friends, aren't we? Don't friends share personal things?'

Hermione blushed a bit, and looked back at the dueling children. 'Two, three maybe. What about you, do you want,' she swallowed awkwardly, 'children?'

'Yes. I want a little girl who'll be like her mother. Clever and beautiful, with a fierce heart, and an appreciation for books.'

Hermione's eyes flashed, and she looked away as her blush deepened considerably. Ron's heart leaped. There was hope yet; the entire concept wasn't dead in the water, as he had feared. She felt something, at least.

'It doesn't matter, though. Not until this is all done. I wouldn't want to bring kids into this.' Her laugh was brittle. 'I can barely think about the future. Voldemort seems to have consumed everything. We can fight him, and our lives are all about him. We can give up, and we'll be killed, or we'll have no hope for a better future. There's no way out anymore.'

'There is. WE can fight, but we don't have to stop living. Our parents didn't do that. If Harry's parents hadn't had him, Voldemort wouldn't have gone away the first time. We –'

'Are you suggesting our child is going to defeat the Dark Lord? And then spend the rest of his life in agony because we're dead and he's famous and no one will ever leave him alone?' Hermione's eyes were filling with tears. 'It was wrong for them to bring kids into it. Look at Neville. He shouldn't have had to grow up with his parents in St. Mungo's. I won't be someone who does that.'

'And what, you're just going to keep putting it off? It could be years. I –'

'I can't talk about this!' Hermione stormed away, wiping at her eyes. Ron was suddenly transported back to the first time he'd made her cry. His stomach felt leaden as he watched the last pair of kids take their turn.

* * *

Monday 29 June, 1998

Over a month of straight studying, and the NEWTs were finally over. The studying had been awkward, after his fight with Hermione, so Harry spent a lot time sitting between them in the library. It had all paid off, and Ron didn't feel as though his whole future was about to end. It had actually been kind of satisfying, knowing the answers and being able to use them. His stomach was still full of butterflies on acid, but he was fine. Absolutely fine. It didn’t matter that tomorrow was the last day of Hogwarts, ever. And that he couldn't predict the future beyond that.

Or that the look in Hermione's eyes was nagging at him, every time he shut his own. He'd considered bribing Zacharias Smith into dueling with him, but at this point, he'd laid his cards on the table, she knew. She had to there was no other explanation for her reaction, and she would have to come to him. The waiting was the hard part, ten times worse than trying to tell her in the first place.

Ron walked out of the Great Hall, and through the front doors. A soft breeze rippled his robes, and tossed his hair. The sun shone down, making everything seem hopeful. The Womping Willow stood motionless on the horizon. Third years were skipping rocks across the lake. Harry and Draco were trying to get a rowboat onto the lake without flipping it over.

He went down to the lakeshore, and dropped down in the shade of a tall tree. Ron leaned back, letting the warmth soak into his test-stressed muscles. He drifted off a bit, the warm glow of the sun behind his eyelids making him drowsy.

When he came back to himself, there was a shadow between the sun and him, and he could feel a presence at his side. He opened his eyes, and there she was. The sun streamed through her hair, and there was ink on her cheek. Ron reached up, and rubbed it away.

Hermione smiled shyly. 'Uh, hi.'

'Hi.'

She leaned back on her heels, and gave him a searching look. Then she bent forward forward, and pressed her lips against his. Ron tugged her down beside him, and they pulled apart. They sat and watched the world around them try and find some peace amidst the war. Ron finally had his now.


End file.
